


undone like gold thread

by thesetemplebones



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drabble, F/F, Lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:30:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6271639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesetemplebones/pseuds/thesetemplebones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'If we were some other people, in another time, we would have more than just our stolen moments.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	undone like gold thread

**Author's Note:**

> I've always loved the idea of Queen Anne and Constance being together and I hope that you all enjoy it. :)

**T** HE conversation could no longer be avoided. As much as Constance dreaded the idea, it needed to happen. They had been avoiding it for as long as they possibly could. It was as if the conversation was the setting sun, trying to cast light upon the Earth for as long as possible before it finally set and the darkness won. Constance knew what needed to be said but she didn't know how to start the conversation. There is no right way to start a conversation like this one.

Constance sat upon the edge of the water fountain in the garden, staring at the water but not really seeing it. Going through her mind was a million thoughts, blurring all together; her stomach began to turn at the thought of the conversation.

“Constance?”

Constance looked over her shoulder, D'artagnan stood there; a friendly smile upon his lips but a concerned look in his eyes. She offered him another friendly smile though it pained her to do so. _How fake._

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Constance nodded, her answer quick. “Are the others here?”

D'artagnan nodded, “Athos is just finishing his report with the King now.” He furrowed his brows, “are you sure you're well? You look pale.”

“Too much time in the sun,” she shook her head, “I was just heading inside now.”

“Constance...”

“I was feeling faint before so I came and got some air,” she said. “I'm feeling much better now.”

D'artagnan stared at her and she knew that he knew she was lying but she also knew that he wouldn't ask her about it. She already knew that when the time came _which would be soon,_ that she could talk to him. D'artagnan was always so easy to talk to. That was one thing that Constance always loved about him, he never made her feel judged.

It was why he was her best friend.

“I hope you feel better,” D'artagnan said. “Send for me if you feel ill again.”

Constance nodded, “I promise.”

All the other times before, the walk to the Queen's chambers always seem to long for Constance. It seemed to her that the hallways were too long and the stairs too many. However, on this walk, the hallways seemed too short and not enough stairs. She stood in front of the double doors, took a deep breathe, and then entered.

Constance half expected Anne to have her son but she didn't. The Queen stood by her desk alone, wearing a simple yet elegant white gown, with thin sleeves that bunched at her elbows. Constance had once told the Queen that it was one of her favorite dresses to see her in; the Queen began to wear the dress more often. When the Queen didn't turn to greet her, as she usually does, Constance knew that the conversation had already begun.

“Did you see D'artagnan?”

“Yes,” Constance answered, “for a moment. He found me at the water fountain.”

Anne nodded, “you've been spending a lot of time in the garden this past month.”

“I've become the new palace gardener,” Constance joked.

“Oh?” Anne turned to face the other woman, leaning casually against her desk. “What have you planted?”

“Roses,” Constance could feel a knot forming in her throat. “White, of course.”

_Your favorite, your majesty._

“Of course,” Anne smiled.

Constance looked down at the floor, she began to play with her hands before she looked back at Anne.

“If we were some other people, in another time, we would have more than just our stolen moments.”

“We do have more,” Anne stood straight.

“We do?”

“Yes,” Anne nodded. “They are not just stolen moments between two lovers. They are _more_ than that.”

Constance shook her head, “you once said that you would never be free.”

“I am free with you,” Anne moved toward Constance, she stood close enough to her that their dresses touched each other. “Our stolen moments, they make me free.”

Constance couldn't do this. She felt as though someone was making small specific slashes across her heart. She quickly wiped away the tears that began to roll down her cheeks.

Anne grabbed both of Constance's hands in her own, pulling them away from her face. “With you, I am just a woman.”

“You are the _Queen,”_ Constance shook her head. “You are not just a woman. You are the King of France's wife! Our love is not just forbidden, it is _treason_!”

Anne took a step back, her eyes widened, “love?”

“Love,” Constance softly answered back. “I love you. I am in love with you and it's killing me. I see other couples, in public, kissing or holding hands. It pains me so to see that because I know that we will never be able to do that.” She shook her head. “We will never have that freedom. We can never just be. Those nights that the King comes to your chambers,” Constance shook her head, her hands coming to rest on her stomach. It made her feel sick just to think about it. “I can not do this anymore. I have fallen too much in love with you for this to continue.”

“I love you,” Anne walked until she stood in front of Constance. She cupped her face between her hands, “ _I love you_.” She herself had tears rolling down her cheeks. “I want you, _only you_. As the Queen, I shall get what I want.”

“Not this time, my love.” Constance said.

Anne pulled Constance into a tight embrace. Constance held back just as fierce and turned her head so that it was buried in the other woman's neck. She wanted to smell Anne one last time, she would miss it.

They made love one last time.

* * *

 

After, Constance doesn't remember much, except for her collapsing outside of the chamber doors. She does remember asking one of the guards to go fetch D'artagnan.

Constance awoke in her own bed, in her own chambers with Athos, not D'artagnan, sitting in a chair beside her bed.

“I sent him to go get some sleep,” Athos said. “He was making himself sick worrying about you.”

Constance shook her head, “I am fine.”

Athos raised an eyebrow at her.

Constance looked away.

“The Queen said that she expects you to take as long as you need to recover.”

Constance looked at him, “she did?”

“She came in and sat with you for an hour before she was called away.”

“Where were you and D'artagnan?”

Athos gestured to the doors, “just outside. D'artagnan didn't want to go far, just in case.”

“So, you heard what she said,” Constance sighed.

“The wood is thin,” Athos said, he looked straight at her. “One didn't need to _hear_ anything to know.”

Constance could feel her eyes welling up yet again. “Why are the tragic loves the most beautiful?”

“Because they're not eternal” he replied. “Yours is unfortunate.”

“What do they call the unfortunate loves?”

“True love.”

As Constance wept, Athos sat beside her, his hand never leaving hers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope that you enjoyed it.


End file.
